


I Hear You (Ti Sento)

by jordamn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bucky Barnes has a crush, Clint Sam and Nat are all security too, Fluff and Humor, Opera AU, Opera singer Steve Rogers, Security Guard Bucky Barnes, they aren't actually in a relationship yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordamn/pseuds/jordamn
Summary: The final performance on a year-long tour; the only people more exhausted than Steve Rogers himself would be his security team. Bucky had long gotten over his surprise at just how many people seemed intent on killing an opera star.‘THE Opera Star’ Rogers manager, Stark, would correct him.Aka the Opera AU literally no one ever asked for.





	I Hear You (Ti Sento)

**Author's Note:**

> My dad sent me the music video for 'Ti Sento' by Scooter and my first thought anytime I see security detail is Security Guard Bucky Barnes so this happened.

_ 1400 _

The final performance on a year long tour, the only people more exhausted than Steve Rogers himself would be his security team. Bucky had long gotten over his surprise at just how many people seemed intent on killing an opera star. ‘THE Opera Star’ Rogers manager, Stark, would correct him, and it was kind of true. Opera certainly wasn’t nearly as popular as it once had been, but Rogers had somehow caught the attention of that younger demographic that could lead a person to fame. 

And that was how Rogers had managed a year long tour over a dozen countries, with nearly every show sold out. It all ended where it began, in New York. 

“Don’t let your guard down,” Bucky snapped, he had the utmost trust in his team but- “It’s easy to think ‘it’s finally break time’ after so long, but we all gotta be sharp tonight, got it?” 

Barton, Wilson, and Romanov nodded their understanding. 

“Usual cover, I’ll take back with Wilson, Barton stage left, Romanov stage right. We clear?”

All three nodded again, Barton even adding a “We won’t let you down, boss”.

Bucky nodded, “I know you won’t. Lets get through tonight and then drinks on me to celebrate a fucking great year.”

“Cheers to that!” Wilson grinned.

\--

_ 1600 _

  
Driving to the theatre was always in an armoured vehicle, with Rogers in the back with Barton beside him, and Bucky himself driving with Wilson in the passenger seat. Romanov would follow behind in a second vehicle. It had seemed excessive before Stark briefed them on the hundreds of death threats per week, and the 2 past attempts on Rogers life. People didn’t like him. Bucky couldn’t for the life of him figure out why, he found Rogers to be one of the kindest, most genuine people he’d ever protected (met). 

He’d read enough of the threats to know why though. People didn’t like that he sang against the government and against oppression, that he was gay, that he pushed so publically for accountability from their leaders, that he sang for change with that incredible ringing tenor of his. People didn’t like when their children challenged them after hearing Rogers sing that they could- that they had the freedom to do so. They didn’t like that he was so much more than just a pretty face.

  
Bucky’d asked Rogers once whether he found it worth it, the constant supervision, the inability to leave his house without sunglasses and a low hat. Rogers had only smiled sadly and shook his head, “I get to do something I’ve loved since I was 2, _ and _inspire the generation following me. I’ve found my purpose, I couldn’t be happier.” 

Bucky knew he himself would never be so selfless. 

Protecting Rogers had, over the past year, become more than the job he was paid to do (which he took very seriously). It had become something of a personal conviction of his. He admired Rogers, and what he did. Perhaps he admired him more than he should to maintain his professionalism, which is why after tonight, after this tour came to an end, he would move onto the next client. Bucky would never allow himself to become distracted by Rogers passionate voice, the way the lights of the stage would reflect off the small amount of glitter on the man's forehead, or the misleadingly broad, built, frame hosting a soft and thoughtful heart. 

Best not to tempt fate, though. 

The ride from the hotel to the theater was just shy of an hour. When they finally pulled up close to the back entrance, the sight of the paparazzi waiting for them brought a bone deep sigh from Bucky, affirmed by some hums of agreement from the rest of the car. 

“Good thing it was chilly this morning,” Roger chirped as he pulled his baseball cap over his eyes, and the hood on his sweater up on top of that. Wilson wordlessly handed him his own sunglasses that Roger took with a ‘thank you’. 

Bucky pulled the keys out of the ignition, and stepped out of the car at the same time as Wilson. Bucky opened the door for Rogers, letting him step out with Barton close behind him. Barton stayed behind Rogers, while Wilson and Bucky covered his front from both sides and they pushed past the flashing cameras and shouted questions. 

“Y’know,” Rogers said with the door safely closed behind them, “I wouldn’t mind talking to them sometimes.” He handed the glasses back to Wilson. 

“Sorry sir, Stark gave us pretty clear instructions. Take it up with him I guess.” Bucky shrugged, genuinely apologetic. Stark was a good guy, with Rogers well-being at the core of his actions, but he was also very… micro-managing, as Barton had put it once. They waited near the entrance until Romanov entered the door alone, she gave a Bucky a silent nod that they both knew meant ‘all is well’. 

“Wilson will escort you to your dressing room, the rest of us are gonna give the place a once over then get in position. Coms on everyone?” 

“Check- Wilson.” He confirmed, pressing the little button on the earpiece that turned his mic on.

“Check- Barton.”

“Check- Romanov.”

“Check- Barnes. Coms clear. Break.” Bucky nodded once, then made eye contact with Rogers and offered him a small grin, “Blow them away tonight, Mr Rogers.”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks. Also- It’s Steve.” Rogers replied.

“Sure, Mr. Rogers.” 

\--

_ 1800 _

“Barnes said everything is clear, and we’re go for tonight.” Wilson told Rogers. 

Rogers nodded, finishing off the last of his foundation, “Good, wouldn’t want to have gotten all dolled up for nothin’,” he chuckled a bit.

“I’m always impressed how quick you can get that all on you yourself.” Wilson nodded in the direction of the massive selection of make-up in front of him. 

“Been doing it since I was, like, 6. It’s fun, you gotta do triple what you normally would for it to actually be visible on stage, right? It’s fun to be able to go all out.” Rogers explained as he continued. “Mind if I warm up?” 

“Not at all,” Wilson shook his head. 

Rogers started with humming, as he finished off his makeup. By the time he was gelling back his hair he was truly singing, warming his voice for the crowd that was surely already filing into the hall and taking their seats. 

Wilson wordlessly handed him his suit when he stood, not interrupting the mans song, sang in fluid Italian. Rogers songs were generally English, making them more accessible to who he sang to and for, but he had a few favourites that he sang in his mother's tongue. 

Rogers always looked sharp on stage, cutting an elegant form that managed to fill the entire stage with only him on it, his orchestral accompiant in the pit below. Tonight, though, they were recording the performance for DVD, and Stark somehow managed to outdo himself with the sparkling blue and white suit, with a shining red tie. ‘Captain in America’ was the name of the tour, and subsequent DVD, and Wilson was a bit amused by the nearly patriotic colours. 

“How long till curtain?” Rogers asked, smoothing out his suit jacket.

“Just shy of an hour.” Wilson reported. 

Rogers nodded and resumed his vocal warm ups.

\--

1845

“15 to curtain, report.” Bucky spoke, directing his attention to the coms. 

“Clear- stage left.”

“Clear- stage right.” 

“We’re all ready in dressing, moving to backstage will report.” Wilson said.

“Confirm.” Bucky replied, then inhaled and released a deep breath. They’d checked the whole place over twice, yet he couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling pitting his stomach. He knew to trust his gut, but at the same time his ‘gut’ was a bit compromised by his unwelcome disappointment in knowing this very well might be the last time he saw Rogers. It’s not like he usually became friends with, or even kept in touch with, his past clients. 

He’d have some very powerful friends if that were the case. But no, most of his clients couldn’t pick his face out in a crowd or remember his first name a few months later. You didn’t hire a security detail to befriend them. God did Bucky ever wish Rogers had, though. 

So Bucky chalked up his uneasy feeling to the bittersweet ending to this particular assignment. And this was exactly why Bucky had refused Starks offer to renew the whole teams contracts for another year. Rogers didn’t know this yet- or Bucky didn’t think he did, but who knew what Stark did and didn’t tell his shining star. 

“Wilson reporting backstage with Rogers.”

“Confirm,” Bucky responded, shaking himself out of his thoughts. Here he was getting distracted again! James Buchanan Barnes does NOT get distracted on the job, which is, once again, why this would his last time working for Rogers. He needed to go back to greasy politicians and billionaires that he couldn’t care about personally if he’d tried. Not big hearted opera singers who he couldn’t not care about, despite trying. 

Bucky watched the foyer clear as people settled into their seats, he gave the whole area another sweep before leaving the last couple of people lingering at the bar to the buildings security. He moved into the concert hall itself, taking his spot at the back and letting his team know he’d done so. 

“5 to curtain, I’m moving to rear.” Wilson reported, “Rogers is with Stark.”

Once again, Bucky confirmed the movement in the coms, keeping an eye on the occupants of the room. ‘Professional people watching’ is what his sister called it, and he couldn’t help but agree as he thought about how sweet it was to see a pair of teenagers accompanying their grandparents, a lovely pair of moms with their own teenage son, a group of young adults who couldn’t look more out of place in an opera hall if they’d tried, but who certainly didn’t scream ‘threat’ to him. 

Bucky looked over and gave Wilson a firm nod as the man slipped in, several meters to his right. 

The lights went down and Stark voice came booming around the room. Bucky knew the cameras would have just started rolling, ready to capture the whole performance in HD. “Ladies, Gentleman, and welcomed friends, please put your hands together for the incredible and illustrious… Steve Rogers!!”

And the crowd did put their hands together, the youth standing and screaming their admiration, while the elderly pursed their lips in distaste at said youth, but still clapped respectfully as the curtains parted to reveal Rogers in all his glory. 

\--

_ 1900 _

He’d never gotten used to this part, and Steve knew truthfully that he hoped he never would. When he stepped forward towards the crowd, shoulders back and chin slightly raised as the lights glared down on him, blinding him and causing him to sweat. He could hear the crowd, but he couldn’t see them. He could _ feel _them, though, and that’s what he did this for. For feeling. For the feeling it gave him as he brought his voice up to it’s full, thunderous, volume. For knowing that he was causing his audience to feel. To feel his dedication, his passion, at times his anger and devastation.

It was all about _ feeling _.

\--

_ 1955 _

The show had been going great, nothing amiss. Bucky had just finished his 3rd sweep, leaving the hall to scour backstage, the hallways upstairs, the stairwells to the balconies. Everything was clear, as he reported in the coms to the rest of his team. The bad feeling had only been growing stronger, which sucked because he couldn’t very well let himself relax enough to truly enjoy this final performance of Rogers if he was even more on edge than usual. He’d filled his team in on his bad feeling, just to be safe, and keep them extra attentive. 

The thing with Roger’s music, with his voice, was how much is made anyone hearing it _ feel _. And right now the building passion of this final song wasn’t helping Bucky’s anxiety. They were almost done, the song was several minutes long, completely italian, and one of Steve’s all time favourites (Bucky’s too). He ended with this song in every performance he’d done since he released it 3 years ago. 

It was about desperately loving, about the power of music- the power of _ feeling _. And right now as Steve’s voice echoed around the room, it was putting Bucky unusually on edge. He’d heard this song a hundred times in the last year and yet he felt a sense of dread rising he couldn’t push down. 

“Barnes, report.” Wilson said, and Bucky figured he must have noticed his body language change. 

“Not sure. Nothing to report, all seems clear, but I have a bad feeling. Stay sharp.” Barnes replied. He wouldn’t leave his team out of the loop, they needed to communicate. 

“Eyes peeled, boss.” Barton replied. 

Bucky honed in on where in the song Rogers was, to get a feel for how long till he’d bow, thank the audience, and back off the stage. Till they could have him safely stuffed back in the car and out of harm's way. 

Rogers was repeating the phrase, “Mi ami o no” which he’d once told Bucky meant ‘do you love me or not?’ only it sounded more like a desperate plea than a question as Rogers sang it without abandon, his entire body going into it as it always did when he got particularly into his performance. It was beautiful. 

Bucky looked around the hall again, the crowd was enamoured with Roger’s performance, (and really how could they not be). It was a small room, better for filming the DVD in. Bucky made a mental note to buy the DVD so he could enjoy the show without the bubbling anxiety growing in his chest. He’d felt off all night but now it was thrumming through him in that ‘act now’ kind of way. He had to fight the urge to pace, to tap his fingers… something was wrong. 

He looked over at Wilson to see him shrug helplessly.

“Report,” Bucky snapped into the coms. Something had to be wrong. He glanced up at Rogers, who at the moment seemed close to tears as he belted his lyrics. 

“Clear- stage right,” Romanov said.

“Clear- stage left.” Barton answered.

“Clear- rear right.” Wilson.

“Clear- rear left.” Barnes gritted out. It didn’t feel clear but it _ was _ , he couldn’t see anything, no one in the crowd was acting suspiciously. 3 or so minutes left in the song. But _ fuck _ something was wrong. 

“Somethings wrong,” Barnes corrected himself, in the corner of his eye he saw Wilson stiffen. “No visual, no… anything but something’s wrong. Barton, sweep backstage. Romanov check balconies and stairwell.” 

“Confirm,” Barton replied.

“Confirm,” Romanov.

Rogers was moving across the stage, he didn’t move much during his performances but did at times when he got really into it. This usually wouldn’t bug Bucky, but _ goddamnit _something was wrong and he knew it. 

“Moving left with Rogers while Bartons gone,” He reported before slowly shuffling left around the room till he was about halfway between the back of the room and the side of the stage. With his new vantage he looked around, glancing around the room once again to see if anything stood out and it all looked good until… he had to do a double take at a curtain behind a balcony. There’d been an elderly couple there earlier but they weren’t there anymore. No one was there, but the curtain was definitely moving. As though someone was shuffling behind it.

“Movement behind curtain, balcony 7, 2nd floor, Romanov, Barton _ go.” _

The pair confirmed and Bucky continued making his way towards the stage, his eyes fixed firmly on the moving curtain. It could be the wind, but the anxiety scratching under his skin said it wasn’t. He glanced back at Rogers who was oblivious as he stood on stage, swaying in his spot, with his head thrown back and eyes closed as the orchestral bridge played. The song was almost over, then Bucky could breathe again because this was nothing. It couldn’t be anything. 

He turned his attention away from the distraction that was Steve Rogers and could see the curtain moving again, “Barton, Romanov repo-” the word trailed off as his heart filled with horror because the curtain moved again, and slowly, so slowly, a silencer poked through, the light just glinting off it’s tip. Perfectly positioned so no one on his security team wouldn’t have seen it from their regular posts. Bucky certainly wouldn’t have if he hadn’t moved. 

He felt a familiar build of panic which translated into adrenaline as he broke into a run towards the stage while speaking as quickly as he could into his mic- cutting off Bartons report as to his whereabouts- “Firearm- silenced, same balcony, take them down now. I’ve got Rogers.”

He dodged around equipment as he made his way towards the stage and _ damnit _Rogers move around or something! Stop being an easy target! Buck tripped a bit on an unoccupied chair, stumbling a bit as he made his way to the stage, where Rogers picked up his final refrain, tears sparkling in his eyes as the man put every bit of himself into the song. 

Bucky entertained a brief thought of how ruined the DVD would be in about 30 seconds when he tackled Rogers down and off the stage. That was the plan. It would be all over the news the next day for sure, and it’ll scare the crap out of Rogers but frankly, Bucky didn’t give a single shit because there was gun pointed at Rogers right now and that _ didn’t _happen. It wouldn’t happen, Bucky wouldn’t let it.

And then it did, just as Bucky hauled himself up onto the stage and started moving towards Rogers who had now seen him and looked at him, head cocked in absolute confusion as he held the note he was singing, they held eye contact and Bucky yelled, “Down!”

Bucky could _ feel _the moment it happened, the moment Rogers eyes went from confused to pained and shocked. When Rogers voice broke for the first time that tour, when he looked down at his own chest and crumpled to his knees. 

Bucky couldn’t stop his movement this far into it, and his body still hit Rogers, knocking him completely to the ground, less than a second too late, but still _ too late. _The crowd erupted, the coms erupted, Rogers erupted, letting out a guttural scream of pain into his microphone that reverberated around the room. 

Bucky used the momentum from his tackle to keep moving Rogers as he scooped him up and moved off stage, out of the line of sight of the sniper, and to where Stark was waiting. Bucky had to yell at him 3 times to get the man to shakily call 911. 

“Rogers down- out of line of sight, 911 called- report,” Bucky finally asked into the coms, trying hard to stay calm, but not doing particularly well. 

“Sniper apprehended, unconscious, Barton’s restraining him, we also called 911.” Romanov reported. 

“On my way to you, Barnes,” Wilson replied. 

Barton didn’t check in, but that was fine with Bucky considered what Romanov had said. 

He looked back down at Rogers who was gasping for air, and crying as he held his hands over the wound. 

Bucky pulled the man's hands away and began first aid, trying to stop the bleeding. When Wilson got there he helped, and tried to calm down Rogers who, reasonably, was losing his shit. They could hear the chaos that was the concert hall, Bucky trusted that the building security would be handling it.

“You’re gonna be alright, Mr. Rogers, ambulance is on it’s way,” Bucky promised. 

Rogers groaned then shook his head, “Steve- please call me Steve.” He forced a tearful smile and grabbed Bucky's shirt with his blood soaked hand, “I’m dying you have to do what I say.” His words were choked up as he tilted his head back and clenched his jaw in pain.

“You’re not fucking dying, Steve, people don’t die on my watch. You’re gonna be alright,” And okay maybe Bucky was talking to himself more than Steve at the moment. Because he was worried, and not because his record was about to be busted. He was worried about Steve, the generous and selfless guy bleeding out on the floor in front of him.

The ambulance did finally arrive, and they loaded a hardly conscious Steve Rogers into it, strongarming the paramedics into allowing both Bucky and Stark on it with them. Romanov would handle the sniper and police, while Wilson and Barton followed behind them in the car. 

“He was just- that was an attempted assassination and I’m head of his security there’s no way in hell he’s leaving my sight!” Bucky had snapped, his expression stoned into what Barton called his ‘death glare’. And it worked. 

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur to Bucky, his adrenaline draining leaving him woozy and overwhelmed. Steve did pass out on the way there, and if Bucky thought he’d been anxious early that night now he was starting to lose his shit. He knew he needed to keep it together until they got Steve to safety though, he was still on duty for fucks sake. 

\--

_ 2030 _

Bucky got his minute and thirty seconds of freak out time when he excused himself to the bathroom after the doctors took Steve to surgery and did actually kick him out so they could do their jobs. He dry heaved into the toilet, then splashed water on his face to wash away both the bit of Steve’s blood and the tears he let himself shed. Then he forced himself to steal his face into a stoic expression, and stepped back out to talk to his team. 

“He’s in surgery,” Was the first thing Bucky said to Wilson and Barton. 

“Stark mentioned,” Wilson said, his voice cracking a bit, “Romanov, uh, she’s still with the police.” 

“You guys got the guy, right? No accomplices?” Bucky asked. 

“Looked like he worked alone. Nat, uh, Romanov, sorry, fuck, uh,” Barton rubbed his forehead trying to collect his thoughts, but Wilson jumped in for him. 

“Romanov will get the details on the guy before she joins us again. Fuck. I just…” Wilson trailed off, shaking his head. 

“Don’t blame yourself- this guy clearly knew what he was doing. I wouldn’t have seen the gun at all if I’d been standing where I was supposed to be. He’s been watching our positions, knew exactly when and where to be.” Bucky felt like a hypocrite as he spoke to the pair in front of him, seeing as how he absolutely 100% did blame himself. Only himself. His team did everything they were supposed to, and this couldn’t possibly be on them- just their leader. Their leader who made a great plan of action then stupidly stuck with it like a goddamn amateur.

“That’s fucking bullshit, Barnes, I hired you for _ one job, _” Stark shouted, decking Bucky before the man had even really registered Starks return. Bucky doubled over, holding his nose as it gushed blood. Wilson twisted Starks arms behind his back in a heartbeat. 

“You better check yourself, Stark, and sue us later but you don’t fucking hit him,” Wilson snapped, before letting go of Stark and shoving him away. 

“You’re lucky no one saw that, Stark, you dumbass, you wanna get kicked out of a hospital tonight, really?” Bucky snarled at the man, pushing down the pain of his broken nose thank you very much. 

Barton glared at Stark before putting his hand on Bucky’s back, “Let’s check you in too, I guess. That’s definitely broken.” 

“I fucking hope it is,” Stark seethed, storming away before Wilson could argue with him. 

\---

_ 2145 _

Bucky got his nose set, bandaged, and then he promptly checked himself out (to the displeasure of the medical staff) so he could go sit in the waiting room and glower at Stark instead. Barton left to join Romanov in handling the police, and Wilson was sitting with him also glaring at Stark. Bucky wondered if they could take shifts in glaring at Stark, since his headache had gotten exponentially worse since he’d started. 

\--

_ 2230 _

Turns out just hearing the words- “We’ve moved Mr Rogers to recovery and he is stable for now, but not ready for visitors,” was enough for Bucky to pass the fuck out. Knowing that Steve was okay, for now at least, let his body finally shut down as it had been wanting to do since the shot was fired, and as it had been trying to do since some fucking asshole manager broke his nose. 

\--

_ 0120 _

Sam woke him up so Natasha and Clint could fill him in. It’d been some conservative extremist named Brock Rumlow who’d done it. Barton showed him the guys facebook page which was very publicly filled with hate posts against Steve, calling him a traitor to the country among other things. There was the motive, exactly as Stark had first warned them of when they were hired. 

The guy was ex-military, which explained his skill with a sniper rifle. 

It just all made too much sense. It should have been predictable.

Bucky sent his team home for the night, “Get some rest, clean yourselves up, and expect a phone call when he’s up again.” They’d all hesitated, but in the end relented. After all- having 5 people glaring at each other in the waiting room wouldn’t help Steve any more than just he and Stark glaring at each other. 

Bucky wondered if dirty looks were one of those ‘practice makes perfect’ kind of skills. 

The doctor asked if any of them were family, then if Steve had any family on the way, then if he had any family they could contact. Stark got progressively more uncomfortable with every ‘no’ he gave them. 

“You’d both be best to head home for the night. Mr Rogers is stable but needs his rest. Come back tomorrow morning and you can see him if he’s feeling up to visitors.” The Doctor explained, and both men gave in and agreed, Bucky glaring at Stark even as he held the door open behind him for the man. (He was angry not an asshole). (Well maybe he was an asshole but not immature).

Bucky sent Nat, Sam, and Clint all texts letting them know he’d get in touch with them when Steve was ready for visitors, called himself an uber, stumbled into his apartment and passed out after setting a hasty alarm for the morning. 

\--

_ 0800 _

Bucky had been up for an hour already, bitching about his nose while he showered, bitching about his nose while he ate, and bitching about his nose as he started his car and made his way to the hospital. 

At one point he called his sister on his hands-free to bitch about his broken nose. And fill her in on the events of the night before, because what the hell how did everything go to shit so fast?

“All I know is the concert YOU were at is fucking shot up and half the internet thinks Steve Rogers himself is dead, and then there’s a video of you jumping on him on stage and I’m thinking well shit maybe my brother also got shot and is also dead since he WOULDN’T TEXT me back!” Rebecca was clearly also in a bitching mood this morning. 

“It was a busy night! Did I mention that my fucking boss broke my nose?!” Bucky was happy to let them both get their bitching out before they each started their days though, cause really what else were siblings for?

\--

_ 0845 _

Bucky was pissed but not even a little bit surprised that Stark got to go see Steve first. After all, the two of them actually were friends.

Now that he was counting down the minutes till he could see Steve, Bucky found he didn't really want to anymore. He was happy knowing the man would be okay, sue him for not wanting to have the, 'Hey sorry I didn't do my job and now you almost died, also you actually can't sue me cause you signed my very thorough contract but get well soon!' conversation. 

It was at least an hour before Stark stalked over to him, jabbed his thumb in the direction of the doors and said, “I’m going to get coffee, you can talk to him.” 

Bucky stood up and resisted the temptation to follow Stark out of the waiting room, then out of the hospital and home. He owed it to Steve, though, and he did want to see for himself that the man was okay. 

The door to Steve’s room was already cracked open, so Bucky rapped his knuckles on the door frame before stepping in, “Hi, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve looked up from where he lay on his hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of monitors and more pale than usual, “I’d’ve thought dying in your arms put us on a first name basis, _ Mr Barnes. _” 

Bucky wanted to laugh, or at least grin, but instead he just stared at the ground, burning a hole through it with his eyes. Trying to figure out how he was supposed to segue into the coming conversation.

“You’re okay, right?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked up, certain his jaw must be scraping the ground as he gaped at Steve, “You’re asking _ me _if I’m okay?! You’re- Steve you were shot!” 

Steve chuckled, “I noticed. I meant to make sure the guy didn’t hit you, too, or something. You were right there when it happened, he could have! And I can see what Tony did to your nose.”

Bucky shook his head, “Even if I had been, it’s an… occupational hazard. But, no, I wasn’t hit.”

“Occupational hazard… I’m stealing that line for when I gotta start telling people about this.” Steve said. 

Neither man knew what to say, so the air filled with an uncomfortable silence until they both tried to speak at the same time, “So Steve I wanted to,” and “I really do want to,” and then a pair of out of sync “No you go ahead’s.” 

“Uh,” Bucky took the lead this time, “I really wanted to, god, I know it doesn’t make any kind of difference but on behalf of my team- well they’re not at fault… so I apologize, I really am… sorry.”

Steve blinked at him silently for a moment before starting to laugh, “You can’t seriously be blaming yourself for this!”

Bucky scowled, crossing his arms, “Well considering you pay me out the ass to make sure that this exact situation never happens, yeah I do.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, “Stark pays you to protect me, which ya did. I’d be dead right now if your team hadn’t stopped the guy before he could finish the job, and if you hadn’t gotten me off the stage and to a doctor so fast. Actually, scratch that. I’d’ve been dead 8 months ago by some random angry guy by now.”

Bucky did not agree with Steve’s point of view, not even a little bit, but he also wasn’t going to argue with a guy in a hospital bed. 

“Besides,” Steve grinned, “At least this sets a ‘worst case scenario’ to joke about on the next tour, right?”

Ah. So Stark definitely hadn’t broken the news yet. Fuck. Bucky really didn’t want to be the one to do that. His silence must have spoken volumes because Steve’s face fell.

“You’re not gonna let this scare ya off, right?” Steve said, “You guys are a hundred percent the best security I’ve ever had, and if Tony’s said something I’ll talk to him. He’s just scared right now. He’ll get over it as soon as he gets that coffee of his.”

Bucky steeled himself and said, “I declined to extend our contract about 6 weeks ago.” 

The crestfallen look on Steve’s face screamed at Bucky to change his mind, to hunt down Stark and get on his knees to beg for employment. 

“I…” Steve swallowed and nodded, looking away, “I get it.”

“It’s not,” Bucky had to stop himself from finishing the sentence because it was personal, just maybe not in the way Steve would probably assume. “I thought Stark would have told you.”

Steve’s jaw twitched and he shook his head once, sharply, “No, he didn’t.” Then he sighed, relaxing some of the tension that had taken over his body, “Sorry. You have no obligation to… sorry, that wasn’t fair of me.”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I’m sorry to. It’s a, uh, wasn’t sure if it’d be professional to tell you directly.”

Steve’s eyes flashed hurt as he echoed the word ‘professional’ under his breath. After a moment he spoke up again saying, “We’re friends, right?”

Bucky tore his eyes away from Steve’s and stared instead at the wall behind the man, “I have a rule against befriending my clients.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry,” Steve spoke softly. 

“Well probably a good thing he isn’t your client anymore, huh?” Tony startled them both when he spoke, handing a coffee to Steve, and then much to Bucky’s surprise to him as well. 

“When were you planning on telling me that, by the way?” Steve asked, taking a sip of the coffee. 

Tony laughed, “Wasn’t in the plan to ever tell you.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow, “You didn’t think he’d notice?”

“Didn’t think you’d really go, actually.” Tony corrected. 

“I have to.” Bucky said, the words tasting like poison on his tongue. 

“Why?” Both Tony and Steve asked at the same time, giving each other private grins at their unison.

“I’m…” Bucky grasped for words, his face contorting in thought, “Compromised.” 

Tony rolled his eyes while Steve scrunched his own face up, “Whaddaya mean, compromised?”

“I told you, I have a rule against befriending clients. It’s one or the other with me,” Bucky explained. 

“So…” Steve smirked, “Let’s say we go with option B, you’re really gonna trust whatever guy Tony hires next to watch my back?”

Bucky gave it some thought. Let himself imagine being friends with Steve, even maybe acting on his crush one day, and then thought of sending him off for a show while some incompetent team pretended to take care of him. The surge of protectiveness caused to speak without thinking, “No.”

“No as in…” Steve trailed off in question. 

“No as in someone better get me a pen and a contract so I can make sure I’m watching your dumbass the next time someone tries to shoot it.” Bucky said resolutely. “No friend of mine will be protected by anything but the best.”

“And you’re the best?” Tony asked. 

“Despite this,” Bucky gestured at Steve, propped up in his hospital bed, “Yes. My team and I, that is.”

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you, Steve.” Tony crossed one leg over the other and sat back with a smug grin on his face. “I knew he’d stick around.”

Steve smiled around the rim of his coffee cup, “Guess I oughta get shot more often.”

Both Bucky and Tony strongly disagreed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the obvious lack of effort with the medical stuff... I know nothing and started this like an hour ago.  
Also all translations are just what I found online for the translation of the lyrics from Matia Bazar (who Scooter sampled in the vid I mentioned earlier).


End file.
